Rock Me
by forsomereasonawake
Summary: Mathew has been a good kid his whole life; never speaking out and never disobeying his father, this seventeen-year-old is about to enter a new, exciting world. After sneaking out with his step-brother Alfred, Matt began to feel a little conflicted yet intrigued about his feelings towards the lead singer Gilbert. What will happen when one night leads into something more complicated?
1. Chapter 1

Mathew sighed and leaned his head against the window, which cooled his check. It was annoying and a little saddening to him, he thought as he watched the city fly by to the point that it was practically a blur from his unfocused eyes. His brother was arguing with his dad, but that wasn't too new; what bothered him was what the were arguing about it, and the fact their argument had nearly reached shouting status, which Mattie hated.

"You can't do that," Alfred near-yelled in the car, waving his arms about excitedly, nearly hitting his younger step-brother. "It's not fair!" It wasn't fair, Mathew agreed, but be really didn't want to get into it with his stepdad, the stricter of his parents.

Arthur sighed and gripped the steering wheel tightly. He slowed to a stop at the light and pinched be bridge of his nose. It was never easy arguing with his son, and he doubted it would ever be. "I don't care if it is fair or not Alfred, I don't want you or your brother going to the rock concert." With that, the car accelerated and Alfred pouted, leaving Arthur to believe that the dispute was over, but of course, as the father grew to learn, was never true.

"You promised!" The teen whined, kicking out his long legs, much like a child during a tantrum. Mathew brought his legs up to his chest to avoid getting kicked before whispering his agreement, though his soft voice wasn't heard.

"Alfred, I'm sick of this. You are not going and that is it. This is not up for discussion!" He snapped before pulling up into the driveway where the elder son jumped out, slamming the door and running inside. Arthur sighed and shook his head and muttered before turning off the engine and turning back to his second child.

"I'm sorry Mattie," he said, reaching out and messing up the boys hair and smiled warmly, his green eyes shining with a genuine apology, and his voice was soft, kind. Much different from the argument just minutes prior.

Mathew smiled back and nodded, not saying anything. It didn't bother him as much as it did Alfie, who absolutely adored the band, but he was still a little upset by it. "It's okay, Dad," he said before stepping out the car.

The outside was unusually warm for the season so filled with warm, inviting colours that cover the trees that grew all around the teen's home. He walked up the path slowly, absentmindedly crunching the fall leaves of Autumn, up to the main doors of the large, Victorian style villa. It reached upward toward the slowly darkening sky, with the attic, the children's 'play' room from when they were younger, was. It was a dull, dark gray with brighter trim the almost same colour of papa's roses that he grew around the house. Mathew opened the door, slipped off his tennis shoes, and padded quickly to the stairway that was down the hallway most filled with pictures of the small family. After making his way up to the second story his and his brother's room were on, he gently knocked on Alfred's door.

"Go away!"

He was taken aback for a moment before trying again. "Al... It's me," the younger offered tentatively, hoping that the command was meant for their dad and not him. They were, he learned after an almost instant response telling him to come in, so he did.

"I'm sorry, Al." Mathew made his way through the cluttered room that his brother still hadn't cleaned despite attempts from both parents, and sat next to the pouting Alfred that was scrolling on his phone. He was looking at ticket information for the concert, which caused him to sigh silently before continuing. "We can always maybe go to the next one?"

"We're going to this one." The answer was short, simple, but, as far as what Mathew understood of the situation, impossible, and left him dumbfounded. Purple eyes wide, he blinked and took off his glasses and cleaned them, a nervous habit from childhood, and replaced them on his face.

He cleared his throat with a slight cough and finally voiced his confusion after about of minute of stunned silence. "What?" He stuttered slightly and tilted his head slightly to the side causing his dirty blond hair to drift into his eyes before he pushed it off behind his ears again.

Alfred clicked off his phone screen and wiggled around to face his brother, smiling like a child who was planning to skip school and had a devious plan to get away with it. You could tell he's been planning something since Arthur said "no". Taking a deep breath, the trouble-maker dived into his plan. It was brilliant, it was horrible, it was, well, capable of working, but Mathew couldn't have it. He couldn't do that, not even with his older brother. He wouldn't, and so he shook his head and crossed his jacket cloaked arms over his chest. "Alfred, n-no."

He didn't tell his brother no often, and you could tell based on the look that crossed his face; it wasn't anger or anything, but it was rather confused, actually, but he overcame that and started his attempt to convince his brother of his fool-proof plan. "Come on, Mattie," he whined just the slightest bit, taking his arm and tugged on it until it became uncrossed. "I'm nineteen, almost, and you're gonna be eighteen in July!" All of these things, however, were nearly a year away, which he didn't mention and Mathew was planning on bring up.

"Al..."

"Al nothing!" He intervened, cutting off the other. "Just listen to me, please. They won't find out." He jerked his head toward the closed door, indicating their parents whom likely were downstairs, completely oblivious to what they were talking about upstairs. He looked at his brother sadly, eyebrows turned up and bottom jutted out and quivering.

Mathew sighed and nodded slowly. "Okay," he agreed just as slow, a little scared, but, also, a little bit excited. He had never broken the rules before, and he couldn't believe that he would be starting now, at seventeen.

He bit his lip but didn't back out, though he was nervous still, even more than when it was first brought up. A couple of hours had past since Alfred and his conversation and the concert was starting soon. His phone buzzed. He dug into his pocket and fished it out, checking it. 'Come downstairs,' it read, 'they've gone to bed!' Mathew gulped and obeyed. He slipped out of his room and then silently did the same down the stairs, meeting up with Al in the kitchen.

"Hey," he whispered, softer than normal, looking around himself nervously. Nothing was out of the place, not the porcelain tea maker on the back burner of the stove, or the old vase filled with papa's roses, and there was a small mess on the counter, as usual. The kid's old dog, Kumajirou, lay a lump of white fur asleep on the mat, even. Suddenly his lungs hurt and he pushed the air out of and quickly refilled them. He never even realised he had been holding his breath until then.

"Hey!" Alfred was a bit louder, but still strikingly quiet compared to how he loud he usually tended to be. He was all dressed up in ripped black jeans, an American flag tang top, and a white jacket, much different to the skinny-jeaned, Canadian hoodie-clad Mathew, but Matt didn't mind. He wasn't trying to impress anybody as Alfred tended to try to do ever since his break up with Ivan; he'd never admit it, but he and him were always trying one up the other on nearly anything, boyfriends and clothing alike.

Alfred, suddenly grabbing his brother's arm, lead him out into the main hall, grabbing his keys as he walked by the holder that was hung up on the wall. Obviously this raised the younger's fear of their parents waking up and looked around himself frightfully, shaking a little as he waited what seemed the inevitable punishment. But no. The duo made it out of the house and even out of the driveway before Alfred said, smiling brightly at Matt, "The concert starts in an hour. I wanted to make sure we had plenty of time!"

Mathew swore his life flashed before his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Soon, the brother's had arrived, Alfred had paid, and now he was half-dragging his younger brother through the crowd that seemed to have the same idea as the elder; it didn't seem to bother him, however, as he elbowed his way through them. He was talking about a mile-a-minute, as per-usual, and Mathew was trying his hardest to keep up with the speed. The teen's mind was a little too preoccupied to manage his older brother's rambling although he did feel a bad about it, but he did have his own thoughts—he was thinking about all the trouble that he and his brother faced may face when they returned home. His heart beat quickly and his palms felt sticky with sweat as Alfred pushed them through the ever-gathering crowd. There was something else, too, lurking and creeping the depths of the teen's mind and frantic pounding his heart; excitement was the last thing that Mathew would have expected to feel in a situation like this. Was he really enthusiastic about sneaking out, disobeying his dad, and breaking rules? Was it exciting?

They—although it was Alfred who did most of the work—eventually managed to elbow their through the massive mob of people that was pressed together in front of the stage. He began to jump up and down like a hyperactive child who had recently consumed far too much sugar for their body to handle and flail his arms about himself, squealing like the fanboy he was.

"Ican'tbelievewedidit!"

"I can't either," Matthew admitted a little sheepishly after decoding his brother's quick-paced, one-worded sentence, but nonetheless he didn't say much on the subject as he was still caught-up in his own shock at his quick-beating heart. There was no real questioning it now, he assumed defeated. He was excited, yet he still was clueless when it came to finding the source to it. Was it just because he was out seeing a band with his brother? Was it the act of defiance itself? He couldn't tell, but he still found himself smiling slightly at his surroundings despite his internal struggle of confused stress towards excitement—what an odd thing to be anxious about, he thought to himself, trying to push it all away. He did, after all, still want to have a good time with his elder brother.

The crowd had reformed around the duo, surrounding them on all sides except the front, which gave them a near excellent full view off the seemingly sloppily put together stage set. At the back of the stage was a large curtain that fell from somewhere hidden from view from the crowd; it was black with red and yellow splatter-pain that dripped from the pure black stripe on top. The colours on the curtain were in the order of the German flag, which was where the lead singer had grown up. Atop of this, in large and messy near child-like hand writing wrote _die Kapelle._ In front of this was the band's equipment: drums, a base, an electric guitar, a keyboard set, and multiple microphones were laid out. Scattered around, both high and low, with no real rhyme or reason, were bright lights that were meant to keep the band illuminated; they would have done better at their job if it would have been to physically blind someone for daring to take a glance in their general direction.

There was shouting and high-pitched squeals and screams from the fans, and then there was Alfred; Alfred was still jumping up and down, like he needed to pee, with an arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the bright lights that were dangerous to look at. How odd, Mathew thought before realizing that his brother was just trying to be the first to get a glance at the band. He blushed a little and played with the tassels that controlled his hood nervously; he probably should have been able to guess that simply because he knew his brother.

Alfred was the first to see the band.

"I see them," he screamed suddenly, grabbing his brother's arm and clutching until the point where it almost hurt. "Mattie! They're here!" And with that, he proceeded with his jumping.

Not long after his brother's outburst, as Mathew rubbed his forearms that his brother had attacked, _die Kapelle_ took the stage and enticed more screams. The members of the band did a half run –walk as though they were deaf to crowd's screams although the smirks that were invisible to even those who had managed a place in the far front of the sea of humans were evidence enough to disprove that. The members of the band made their ways to their instruments.

Mathew had never seen the actual members of the band, and thus did not know who was who, and thus was left staring up at the people whom he had snuck out to see. Because he of this, he stared up at them and watched them to go to their specific instruments. His violet eyes watched who he assumed was the lead singer as he went to the microphone—Gilbert, or at least that was what Alfred had once told his younger brother the lead singer's name was. Gilbert had a messy mop of silvery-white hair, and as the two screens to either side of the stage shown, gleaming red eyes that seemed to sparkle despite the blinding light from the lights. Mathew was a little taken aback by how the other looked—all dressed up in ripped skinny jeans, a shirt of his own band, and what looked like bracelets covering his wrists—and felt his cheeks flushed a little. He looked away and at the ground.

After a short but oh so heart-warming welcoming, the music started with a bang; there was a sudden hit on the drums and then slowly the other instruments drifted in before, after a few measures, the lead singer joined the song, singing the lyrics to _beben mich._ Although the song titles were in German, the song _lyrics_ were in English—Mathew had always thought that was a little amusing, but he never really voiced his opinion on it when speaking with his brother as he didn't want him to be upset him. Next to himself, Alfred sang-shouted along with Gilbert, and Mathew himself hummed softly.


End file.
